


kiss me, crown me

by engmaresh



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Batman: The Animated Series
Genre: (Environmentalism), Cunnilingus, F/F, Flower Crowns, Fluff, Plants, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-06
Updated: 2018-10-06
Packaged: 2019-07-27 03:07:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16210121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/engmaresh/pseuds/engmaresh
Summary: Punishing Gotham's elite for crimes against plant life doesn't always have to be a drag. Especially when it involves flower crowns and getting nekkid. (Harley's words, not mine.)





	kiss me, crown me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [reeby10](https://archiveofourown.org/users/reeby10/gifts).



“For the love of– _stop_ squirming, Harl.”

“I can’t,” Harley wails. She grabs the seat of the chair with both hands and wraps her legs around the chair’s until she’s only vibrating slightly with excitement. “It’s just so pretty!”

“It’s not supposed to be just pretty,” Ivy snaps, but more in a fondly exasperated way than in an angry _angry_ way. It’s beginning to get easier to tell with her. She smiles a little too, and Harley squirms with glee with a when another flower begins to bud, right next to her ear. It blooms open with a light puff of pollen, satiny petals brushing her skin, a red so deep it’s almost black.

“Gorgeous,” Harley sighs.

“It’s–”

“Not supposed to be gorgeous,” Harley sings. “I know, I know.”

“Then stop trying to call it that.”

“It’sa _flower crown_ , Red. They gotta be pretty, otherwise what’s the point?”

“It’s cruel,” says Ivy, her mouth now pressed in a thin line. “The carbon footprint of the cut flower industry is astronomical, not to mention of course the thousands of unbought flowers that go to waste when thrown out.”

Harley winces as little thorns start to prick her forehead. “Uh, Red–”

But Ivy’s on a roll now. “Then there’s all these idiots, up in their giant penthouses. Exotic flowers! Hybrid flowers! Flown in by tomorrow! No thought to forests and jungles destroyed for land to grow them, or the poisons they put in the ground–”

“Or the people exploited for labor–”

“And the people, yes, yes.”

“Uh, Red, could you maybe?”

Ivy looks down, and her eyes widen in surprise and horror. “Oh, Harley, why didn’t you say something?”

“It’s just a scratch,” Harley tries to placate her, licking up the thin trickle of blood spilling down her forehead.

“I’m so sorry,” Ivy says, and the thorns in the crown retract. She licks her thumb, and swipes it, spit sticky, over the small wound she’d gouged out in Harley’s temple. “It’ll heal up in a few hours.”

“I know,” says Harley, carefully wiping up the rest of the blood with her sleeve. She uncurls her legs, but Ivy puts a firm but gentle hand on her shoulder.

“Wait.” She tucks a stray strand of Harley’s hair behind her ear. As her hand brushes the lush vines, another flower bud begins to emerge. “There.”

Harley bounces to her feet and remembers a little too late that her flower crown is still tethered to the potted plant next to her. With a little yelp, she crashes back down into her seat. “Oops.”

Ivy huffs, but she doesn’t scold, instead bending over to gently uproot the vine. She frees the roots from as much dirt and soil as she can, then wraps them in tissue soaked with her special growth formula (two parts water, one part growth hormone, one part Ivy’s own blood—Harley knows this because she helps Ivy draw the blood for it). The bound roots go into tiny baggie, and that baggie gets tucked away into Harley’s chignon.

Ivy steps away, arm spread, looking pleased with herself. “Look at you now,” she says, her voice husking deeper with pleasure. “You look beautiful.”

Sometimes Harley’s not sure if Ivy’s talking to her or her plants, but then Ivy takes her hand and tugs her to her feet. “Gorgeous.”

Harley goes wide eyed. “Me?”

“Of course, Harl” says Ivy. “You’re always gorgeous, especially when you’ve got that ridiculous clown suit off. And you’re even more gorgeous when you’ve got _me_ on.”

The flower crown makes it a little hard to kiss her, because it’s large and a little heavy, and one of the flowers keeps falling down between them until Ivy snaps a finger and points up, like Harley’d do with Bud and Lou. Its stem seems to firm up a little after that, and it curves over Harley’s forehead and stays there like a good little flower. Back to kissing then, with Ivy’s clever tongue brushing over the roof of her mouth, making Harley shiver. She’s sweet, like nectar.

As Ivy’s kisses her way down Harley’s neck,  a little vine follows, slipping cool and fresh after the heat trail of her lips. Harley tilts her head back, careful of the weight of the flower crown, anchoring herself to Ivy by slipping her arms around her waist. They fit, hip to groin, chest to chest, and Harley feels a tingling warmth spread through her. Then Ivy steps away.

“Aw, c’mon, Red! Please. Pleasepleaseplease.”

“Not now, Harl,” she says, though her smile seems to say otherwise.

“You’re s’posed to be teasin’ the guys, not _me_!” She drops back down on the chair, crosses her arms and legs, as twisty as one of the vines on her head.

Ivy bends down to tuck a stray leaf back into place. “If we do anything, we’re going to mess it up.”

“I won’t! I’ll hold still, I promise!”

Ivy rolls her eyes. “Come on, Harl,” she beckons with a finger and a sultry smirk, “we need to you dressed.”

“I need to get _un_ dressed, Red,” says Harley, pouting, but she follows the gesture to the bedroom half of their studio. Various gowns and party dresses are laid out across the bed, the haul of a night raid at Bergduff’s.

“I think this one here looks nice,” says Ivy, holding up a black strapless chiffon number. Simple and elegant, but it’s not quite to Harley’s taste.

“How about this one?” she asks, holding up a leaf green velvet sheath dress with gold lace.

Ivy’s lips thin skeptically. “You should leave the green to me, Harl. It makes you look like a Christmas tree.”

“I know!" Harley bounces. "So sparkly, so shiny, so cheerful!”

“So cruel, so destructive, so wasteful.”

“Oh come on now, Red!” Harley protests. “It’s a dress, not an actual tree.”

Ivy sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose. “We want understated and elegant. We want you to blend in.”

“Oh I’ll blend in all right,” Harley reassures her. “You know I can do that.”

“I know, love,” says Ivy. Warmth squirms in the pit of Harley’s stomach and it intensifies when Ivy pulls her closer by the wrist. “You know what, Harl. Maybe we should be getting you undressed after all.”

The vine on her neck wriggles under a bra-strap. “Ooh.” Tingles race down her spine. “Tentacle hentai?”

“Oh, for the love of—” Ivy mutters. But she pushes her onto the bed, right onto the green velvet. Harley knows Ivy thinks she’s being sneaky, as the soft material bunches up under her, but she doesn’t care as she wiggles off her panties.

Ivy’s not a patient person, and the removal of her bra goes a little less sexily than Harley would have liked, the elastic strap flicking her skin as it gets pulled away.

“Hey!”

“Don’t crush the crown,” is all Ivy says, before wrapping strong fingers around Harley’s thighs. The first touch of her tongue to Harley’s clit is gentle, but it sends shivers running through her entire body. She elbows up, all the better to see what Ivy’s doing, and to keep from ruining her flower crown.

“Red…” The strokes of Ivy’s tongue are light and playful, leaving behind tingling sensations a little like cooling lube but better. Harley twitches when something brushes behind her ear, but it’s just another vine, curling down from her flower crown to tickle the sensitive skin there.

“Uh, Red, is Rosie supposed to be be doing that?”

Ivy looks up, lips glistening, eyes narrowed. “Rosie?”

“Um,” Harley points up at her crown.

“Oh, it’s fine,” says Ivy, and returns to her ministrations. One of her hands leaves Harley’s thighs and spreads her open with her long fingers. The brush of her tongue becomes firmer, licking between her folds, interspersed by light sucking on the sensitive nub of her clit.

“Oh fuck,” mutters Harley. One elbow buckles beneath her. Her head sags back, and through her lashes she can see more tiny tendrils sprouting from her crown. She pushes herself back up. “This isn’t really gonna turn into a tentacle hentai, is it, Red?”

“Shut up about the tentacles, Harl,” snaps Ivy. Only she can sound that hot while annoyed, and also while eating Harley’s pussy.

“Right-o-roony,” says Harley, and mimes zipping up her mouth. Only the motion puts all her weight on one elbow and she sinks back again. It doesn’t help anyway, because Ivy starts pushing into her with two fingers and her stupidly dexterous tongue and Harley can never keep quiet when it comes to that. “Oh fuck,” she moans, sinking back. The crown digs into her scalp. “Oh _god_ , Red, right there, _jesus_.”

She bites her arm when she comes because the last time she’d screamed, they’d gotten thrown out of their tiny-ass studio. Something like a small sneeze sounds by her ear, little puffs of air. Gold sparkles fill the corners of her vision, like literal tiny orgasm-stars before her eyes. A shiver seems run through the crown and it trails its way down her spine to her toes.

“Red…” asks Harley, once she has caught her breath. “Did Rosie just come?”

“Hmmm?” says Ivy, voice rough.

“Did your flowers just come all over my face?”

“Oops?” But Ivy doesn’t sound very apologetic. She crawls up the length of Harley’s body and hauls her up to crush their lips together. Tingly and salty sweet, like Ivy, like herself.  Absently she wonders what the pollen would have done to her without Ivy’s special shot.

She curls a strand of Ivy’s hair around her fingers. “Rosie wasn’t supposed to,” she giggles to herself, “come until the party.”

“Come now, Harl,” says Ivy, a rare playful smile curling her mouth. “You think that’s all I’ve got?”

Harley whoops, and wraps both arms and legs around her girlfriend. “They ain’t gonna know what hit them!”

  
_fin_


End file.
